


Initial Conflict.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels), valuna



Series: Novel Approach [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Dracula 2000 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-05
Updated: 2004-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny's third book is ready to be edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initial Conflict.

It says Jon Miller on the novel's spine, but that's because the publicist thinks Jon will be taken more seriously than Jonny but Jonathan makes him sound too scholarly. Doesn't matter. Jon is Jonny is Jonathan, and the man behind the name is happy with his million-book press run for the second novel and having finished the third in the alternate history series.

He's less happy about the man sitting in the study of his Whitby coastline manor house. Gerry Butler. Editor. A man who finds immense joy in red ink. A man who challenges every word Jonny puts onto paper before blessing it to his publisher. A man who, at 6'2 with eyes that won't stay one color for a whole day and a body that looks like sin in Gap jeans and white button-down shirts, is slowly eating away at Jonny's libido.

"So, you've done first read. Whatcha think?" Jonny asks, curled into the captain's chair at the end of the antique desk. "Or do I wanna know?"

"I don't think you want to know." Gerry pushes up his glasses as he turns back to the first page. They weren't falling down, but it's habit, and Gerry hates breaking habits. "Shall we start with what I like, or with what I'm going to surgically remove? And do you have more coffee?"

Jonny rolls his eyes. Always the same comment, since the first novel. Then, Gerry had reason to surgically remove. Not now, though. "Yeah, there's more coffee. You want me to get it?"

"Just bring in the pot." Gerry had finished the last drop in his cup with ten pages left, and he hadn't wanted to break the rhythm. Jonny can write, there's no question about that, but some things need ... polishing. Gerry picks up his red pen and twirls it between his index and middle fingers, flipping it over and around. "Where'd you get the inspiration for this one?"

"Jack the Ripper tour I took in London last summer." Jonny uncurls his legs and pushes himself from the chair. "Don't give me that look. Sean thought his niece would get a kick out of it, so it was part of her birthday pressie." He walks away, heading to the kitchen to get the coffee. He'd rather not think about where the idea'd come from since it involves the ex-boyfriend. "You hungry yet?" he asks over his shoulder.

"No, not yet." Gerry flips through the first part and zeroes in on the most important note he made. "If you going to call historical figures gay," he says, loud enough that he knows Jonny will be able to hear him, "either you're going to have to back it up, or say it's not true. No more smiling like you know something we don't know."

Jonny pours the coffee into the heating carafe, then starts a new pot to brew. He knows Gerry. Too well. Not as well as he'd like. Somewhere between those. He ignores Gerry's comment until he's coming back into the study. "But I do know something you don't," he says, grinning. "That's why I write the books, Gerry." He refills the editor's mug and sets the carafe down on the desk. "It's credible, if not already substantiated."

"Unless you can prove _reincarnation_, there's no way half of this is true." Gerry takes a sip of the coffee and smiles. "Thanks. When they're substantiated, we'll talk, and you can do a humourous tell-all book. That'd sell."

"It's fiction, Gerry. Make-believe." Jonny leans against the desk. "That's why people read it. Plus, you can't libel the dead."

"God bless lawyers." Gerry swirls the coffee around in the mug before drinking more of it. "Now, let's talk about adverbs."

Jonny sighs. "Oh, fuck, Gerry, deal with content. You like the story or not?" He pouts, just the edge of his mouth turning down before adding quietly, "and there are fewer adverbs this time. I went back and did a witch hunt on _ly_ words."

"Yes, I can tell. I was going to congratulate you, but I thought berating you first might warm you up." Gerry grins. "And I did like the story. It reads well, though it lags in some places, and it's intriguing, though parts of it are cliched."

"Berating me to warm me up?" He should admit the idea has merit, but he's not going to do that. "Not that much of a masochist." Jonny slides onto the desk, letting his sock feet dangle against the mahogany's bottom edge. "Lags we can handle. Cliches can be deleted."

"I'm sure you could learn to like it." Gerry smirks. "Warm you up with a talking to, then tighten up your climaxes...you know, Jonny, this book could break records." Jonny's been making innuendo since Gerry edited his first book. Gerry thinks it might be time to sling some back.

"My climaxes are fine, Mr. Butler." Jonny's thrown offguard for a second by the innuendo thrown back at him. It's not like Gerry. But it could be fun. "They come at exactly the right time." He grins. "But I'm not adverse to breaking records."

"Oh, sure, they're right when they're needed, but they could be longer and better thought out." Gerry taps the pen against the rim of the mug. "They shouldn't happen until it's the perfect time, and it's never any fun when they're rushed."

"Longer. Better thought out. Hmmm." Jonny nudges over, just a smidge. "So, think you can make mine perfect? Just how long's that?"

"Twenty more ... pages." Now he knows why Jonny's done this for so long. It's fun. "I think that might be long enough, but not too long. It goes on too long, it can get boring."

"You sure 'bout that?" He thinks Gerry's good at this. Maybe he hadn't before because Sean was always around. That obstacle's gone. "Delaying the inevitable can be quite rewarding. Drawing it out till it's almost too painful ... to read."

Gerry looks up at him. "And then there's always that final conflict, usually moral. Do you hide the body? Do you take what's right in front of you?"

"Hiding the body's easier. Taking what's in front of you can be complicated." Jonny reaches back, grabs his mug and gets himself a bit more coffee. "Obstacles pop up at the last minute."

"And conflicts of interest," Gerry says, suddenly serious. "Let's talk about the book, Jon."

Point to the editor. Gerry never calls him Jon unless he's ticked. "Yes, sir," he says, sipping at his coffee. "The book."

Gerry looks down at the title page. Business. All business. "Let's start with the basics. Hoped for release date?"

"Late spring, from what the publisher said. Going for the summer holiday reading crowd."

"Sensible. I suppose some people might use it for beach reading." Gerry circled the title and wrote _SUMMER _beneath it. "Any special fonts you want me to ask for?"

"Whatever you think works." Gerry's being _all_ business now and Jonny straightens up. "It's gonna be pushing 600 pages, so guess it's up to how much they want to spend."

"Your second book is still flying off shelves, so I think they might be willing." Gerry pushes his glasses up again and turns to the first dog-eared page. "Why does your Jack turn Jack?"

"Basically 'cause he's manic-depressive, has a chemical imbalance that wouldn't've been treated then," Jonny says, a few years of deciphering Gerry's verbal shorthand helping him to know what the question is. "Plus he got off on it. The whole group experience, shades of incest, what he shouldn't be doing."

"Please don't tell me you plan on saying that in public." Gerry sighs. "I'm taking out anything even remotely related to incest. It sells, but not to the market you want. And you don't want to sink to that level, because they'll never let you up."

"It's only implied. I'm not stupid, Gerry." Jonny pulls himself off the desk and sinks back into the chair. It's going to be a long day, he realizes. "And you know I'm very circumspect in public. I took lessons from Clive."

"Good for you. It's still gone. Keep it in your writers circle, circulate it among your friends. Use it to fuel your fantasies. I don't care. But it can't be implied, and you know that."

"Yes, sir," Jonny says, smirking. "But you know what they say. Vice is nice, but incest is best."

Gerry coughs. "Jon, please." He hates cutting things out that he knows Jonny loves, but sometimes it has to be done. That's what evil editors are for. "Keep all the gay, the audiences love that, every hint of scandal. But incest, no matter what you say, is not best."

"Stop calling me Jon." He's getting petulant, despite all his best efforts not to. "I trust you to cut what you think doesn't work."

"Yes, Jon_ny_. And I know you trust me. But I believe in justifying myself."

"Fine. Justify away. Bleed all over my words." It's not a full-blown tantrum, just a small whirlwind. Jonny knows Gerry will make it better. He always does. Jonny's just feeling more on edge with this book than the others. The first was a fluke. He hits a niche in the market. And then they came back for the second, wanting to see if the 'wonder boy' could do it again. Third time's the charm. Or the death knell. And it doesn't help that Sean's left him. For good. Months now, but it's still a bit raw.

Gerry takes off his glasses and rubs at his temples. "Are you quite finished yet?" He understands Jonny's tantrums, but that doesn't mean that he likes them. "Do you want full creative control, Jonny? No, I know you don't. Do you want to unedit my changes? Make a convincing enough case and I'll let you. You're the bloody author here, Jonny. It's your name that's going to be on it. If you're not happy, then there's no bleeding point to it all."

"I'm happy. I'm bloody happy." He smiles, half-hearted. "Editing's fine, Gerry. You always do right. And if you tread on a word I really like, I'll argue for it." He sets his coffee down and runs his hands through his hair, short blond-brown, spiking it up. "Go on. I'll be good. Promise. No more tantrums today."

"Good boy." Gerry knows he's good. But he also knows how fragile egos can be. Jonny's riding the high of popularity, but the doubts can be terrible. Gerry takes a sip of his cooling coffee. "Major changes, I want you to add a scene where your prince and his father talk. There's so little interaction between them that I thought I was reading Romeo and Juliet."

"Okay." Jonny laughs. "Romeo and Juliet. That should be a compliment, being compared to Shakespeare, but I don't think it is." He leans forward, crossing his arms on the desk and resting his chin on his hand. "How long you staying?"

"Five." Gerry glances at his watch. "That should give me enough time to rip you to shreds. I'd like the scene to occur before the killings. I want you to explore his motivations. Does he love his father? I never got the feeling either way."

"Yeah, he loves his father. More than his real brothers. You know there's a habit of that in the royal family. Henry II's bastard sons backed him when his legitimate heirs rebelled." Jonny's staring, thinking. "Stay the night. Weekend even. I could writer the passages you're talking about and you could read 'em fresh."

"No can do. Have a date." Gerry makes a big X where he wants the scene to go. "You remember what those are, don't you? Two men, a club, maybe a trip to the theater. I impress him with the fact that I know Jon Miller. He impresses me with how quickly he can pull out the condom."

"Date. Oh. Yeah, I remember those." Jonny tries not to sound too deflated. He's known Gerry's gay. Part of the whole innuendo thing. Didn't know he was seeing someone. "Knowing me impresses him? You could probably do better than him, then."

"Knowing someone who's name he's seen at the checkout," Gerry corrects. "He's one of those blokes that picks up bestsellers and flips through them to try to seem up to date." Gerry shrugs. "Yeah, I could do better. But he's low-matinence and doesn't push. Dinner and sex."

"Low-maintenance's nice. Dinner. Sex. Haven't had that in awhile." Jonny lets out a breath. "Anyhow, I'll write it this weekend, email it to you."

"You don't have to do that. I can come around next week. Monday good? Think you'll have it written by then?" Gerry doesn't say anything about Jonny not getting laid. None of his business.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll have it written by morning. Doubt I'll sleep tonight." Jonny pushes up off the desk, back into the chair. It's a nervous habit, fidgeting, not sitting still. Another one that probably drives Gerry insane. "Just mark where you want it to slip in and I'll get to most of the revisions before you get back."

"Already did that." He flips to the end. "I'd like another one after it all, to slow the action down. You might want to do a sequel, but that doesn't mean that this one shouldn't be a complete book."

"That makes sense. And I was thinking of a sequel anyway. Carry the story up through the war, bring in the spies and the plotting between cousins."

"But no sex." Gerry circles a word he doesn't like, and makes the notation for new paragraphs in several places. "Sex between cousins doesn't sell well in the States." He puts his pen down. "And please don't tell me you have palace intrigue with Elizabeth."

"Mind out of the gutter, Gerry. I don't write just about sex. The plotting's historical." Jonny grins, first time in minutes. "Which Elizabeth?"

"Either of them, but I meant the second." The coffee's almost cold now, but it's still coffee and it's still good. "And I know you don't write about sex. You write about things that make the reader think about sex."

"No, nothing about the second one." The grin slips into a smirk. "I don't make everyone think about sex. There's a fresh pot made if you want more coffee, oh editor of mine."

"Could use it." Gerry offers him his cup. "No incest, no graphic sex, nothing porny or dirty. There's enough free press from the academics who like to refute you point by point."

"Yes, master, whatever you say." Jonny takes the cup and sets it on the desk, then picks up the carafe. "Be back in a minute." Without another word, he's off to the kitchen to refill the coffee. He lingers longer than he needs, just resting his hands against the counter edge and trying to focus. _Why is he getting to you so badly this trip? And don't use the adverbs, Jon. Not badly. Maybe it's good._

Gerry blinks at the _master_, but doesn't want to ask about it. He doesn't want to know what kind of games Jonny gets up to in his free time. He knows about Jonny's boyfriends, but he's never wanted to think beyond that. There's always that twist in his stomach when he does. "Do you have any sandwiches?" he calls after Jonny.

Sandwiches? Jonny looks at his watch. Well, it is lunch time. "Sure," he calls back. "Wanna take a break from the desk and come in here? I can heat some soup to go with it."

"Sure." Gerry puts the pen down on top of the papers and his glasses go right above it. "Mushroom soup?"

Jonny pokes his head out of the kitchen. "If you like. I made a portabella soup the other day. There's still some left. And some vegetable. C'mon, I'll be domestic for a few minutes and you can not be an editor."

Gerry mimes turning off a switch on the back of his head. "Editor to off. Whatever you have is good. I'm not picky."

"Oh, yes, you are." Jonny laughs and ducks back into the kitchen, going to the fridge and pulling out the leftover soup, then a couple pots out of the cabinet. "Sandwiches. I've got deli meat or I can go gushy grilled cheese."

Gerry leans against the kitchen table. "Grilled cheese. And I am not picky. I'm just ... exclusive."

"You might be exclusive in some things," Jonny says, sliding back to innuendo, "but you're a picky editor. A nit-picky one, sometimes." He pulls the iron frying pan from under the stove and turns the gas up on the burners. "Not that I'm complaining. It makes the books better."

Gerry grins wryly. "Thanks, mate. Nice to know you appreciate my work."

Jonny sets the soups to simmering. "Stilson or mild cheddar?" He does appreciate Gerry, uh, his work, even if he nags at him about the changes.

"Cheddar." Gerry licks his lips. As long as they're 'off', he might as well ask what he's been wanting to. "Anyone new in your life?"

"No." The answer's quick, succinct. There's not been anyone since Sean walked out. Seven months, six days ago. Mutual breakup, relationship past the point of no return on never going anywhere. Jonny turns his attention to the sandwiches, slathering bread with butter and placing it in the frying pan, adding cheese and the second layer of bread.

Gerry nods. "All right." He didn't expect it be to cut-off, though. He hadn't thought it was a bad break up. "You looking?"

"You offering?" The words are out before Jonny thinks, more flippant than he intends. "Not serious. Looking, that is." He turns the grilled cheese over, presses it down lightly. "Just taking it slow. Sean was good, and there's no malice. We still talk."

"Not offering," Gerry says quickly. That's something you're not supposed to do. "Just making conversation." He shrugs and looks over Jonny's shoulder. There should be something else they can talk about besides historical fiction.

"Do you --" Jonny turns around, thinking Gerry's still across the way, leaning against the table, but he's not. He's startled, Gerry right in his face. Well, almost, given the slight height difference. He tries to breathe normally, finds it hard. Tries to ignore the other hardness. "Uh, cook. Do you cook much?"

Jonny. So close. Gerry takes a step backwards and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I cook, yeah. Some. When I need to." _Don't get turned on. He's just a friend. Don't think about kissing those lips._

Moment lost. _Don't do it, Jonny. You'll just lose a friend. He's not interested._ Jonny turns back to the stove, flips the sandwich once more, presses it down and then serves it up on the plate, cutting it in half with the spatula. He snags a soup mug from the hooks over the stove and ladles up the portabella concoction and adds that to the plate. "There's soda in the fridge if you want," he says, turning and setting the plate on the table. "G'head and start. I'm just making my sandwich."

"A'right." Gerry rips off the corner and pops it into his mouth. "Very good, Jonny. You ever think about becoming a cook?" He smiles. "I hear it pays well, and all the boys want to take you home."

"Don't want _all_ the boys taking me home," Jonny says, finishing his sandwich, serving it up with a mug of vegetable soup and joining Gerry at the table. "Contrary to your vivid imagination, Gerry, I don't shag just anything that moves."

"Didn't say you did." Gerry eats more of the sandwich and looks at Jonny. "Why're you so testy today?"

"S'nothing. Just rough time right now." Jonny doesn't need to bother Gerry with his personal life, how his dad's giving him grief or how it's just lonely sometimes. "I'll be right as rain soon as I get to those edits you want." _Yeah, work. Curl up in bed with the laptop the minute you leave and not come out till you get back._

"If you say so." Gerry frowns. "It's not about the edits, is it? If we can't work together, a personality thing...I got friends, Jonny, who are just as good as I am."

"Fuck, no," Jonny says, mouth full of sandwich. He chews, swallows, at least tries to digest before continuing. "It's not you, not your editing. Christ, Gerry, you're the best editor I could have. Don't think the others would put up with my eccentricities."

"Yeah, they'd take you over their knee and spank you." Gerry reaches into the fridge and grabs a coke. "Nonsexually, of course."

"Of course, nonsexually." Jonny doesn't squirm. Nope, it was a wriggle. A very small wriggle. He's just fidgety. Has nothing to do with the thought of his editor spanking him. No, not at all. "Wouldn't think of a spanking being sexual. Just wouldn't do anything." The line might deliver better if Jonny could bluff at poker at all.

Gerry smiles. _Four hours until my date, and I can blow it off._ He shouldn't do this, but Jonny's too cute, and the opening's too big. "Would you like that, Jonny? Every time I find something I don't like, I bend you over my lap, or the desk, and take down those jeans of yours and see how much of a paddling you can take?"

Jonny sputters his soup over the spoon's edge, then coughs. Recovery time. No, his cock isn't hard. No. The game's moved from innuendo to flat-out suggestion. "You think that'd help?" He takes another sip of the vegetable broth. "Bending me over the desk and spanking me?"

"Yeah, I think it'd help your adverb obsession." Gerry smiles. "Aversion therapy. Would work wonderfully, beautifully, obsessively, sarcastically, and happily."

"Spanking the 'ly' out of me. That's a different approach." Jonny laughs, pushes his plate aside. "Couple English profs probably wish they'd thought of it."

Gerry finishes off the last of his sandwich and licks his fingers. "I am a genius among men." He leans across the table and kisses Jonny on the forehead. "And I want to fuck you messily," he whispers in Jonny's ear before pulling back. "Book?" he suggests.

"Fuck? Me? Messily?" Jonny's lost, the kiss unexpected -- hell, he could pinpoint the Rapture more easily than he could've anticipated _that_ kiss -- and the words are insane. "Yeah, the book would be a good idea. You've got to leave in," he pauses, looks at his watch again, "uh, couple hours to get back to London."

"Yeah, I do." But Gerry doesn't want to go. He wants to toss Jonny over his shoulder, find the bedroom, and then fuck him senseless. "Why don't I leave you to make the changes I asked for, then I do another cold reading?"

"On Monday, when you come back." Jonny doesn't want Gerry to leave. He wants to wake up in the morning so fucked he can't move. "Wouldn't want you to miss your date."

"You want me to stay? Moral support," he goes on quickly. "Stay out of your way, but always on the edges."

"You can stay." _Oh, fuck, please_ his mind screams. "I wouldn't mind." It's the understatement of the century. "Boring to watch me write."

Gerry isn't sure why he made the offer, but now that it's out in the open, he doesn't want to take it back. "I don't need to go back to London tonight. Can call off my date." Eddie wasn't all that attractive anyway. Nothing like Jonny. "Got a spare room?"

_Calling it off for me?_ The thought's a bit unnerving, leaving Jonny a lot to live up to, but they're played through the innuendo and the offer's out there. "It's a manor house, Gerry. There's a half dozen bedrooms. Most of 'em have beds, too, with sheets. You can have your pick."

"Then I'll stay." Gerry's more relieved than he'd like to admit. He doesn't know what he'd do if Jonny had said no. _Make for a fucking awkward working relationship._ "And use up all your spare rooms."

Jonny laughs. "Guess we should get back to the book, then, let you finish bleeding so I can start writing."

Gerry grins. "Red ink for a reason, my dear. Nice and vivid. Never can miss it."

"Of course," Jonny says, pushing back from the table, collecting the dishes and depositing them in the sink. He'll deal with them later. "It looks good on flesh, uh, fresh paper."

_Flesh?_ Gerry shakes his head. Must have heard him wrong. "And all over your carefully-sculpted words."

"You used an adverb, you realize." Jonny shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and heads back toward the study. "There's a penalty point for that."

"Whose rules?" Adverbs aren't all bad. They're fine here and there. "And if we're playing by rules, we should deduct for the adverbs I let you keep in your daring and dashing tale of intrigue and sex."

"Okay. For every adverb you let me keep, I'll drag out my climax by one graf."

"Deal." Gerry offers his hand. "And I've let you keep at least fifteen."

Jonny pulls his hand out of his pocket, wipes it on his jeans and shakes Gerry's hand. "Deal. I'll get started on drawing out the climax."

In any other context, in any other setting... "Do that." Gerry takes a step back. "I'll, uh, call Eddie. Tell him that I don't like blokes who name their penises."


End file.
